Family and Other Accidents
by Messiah91
Summary: A series of one-shots revolving around the three Cullen boys and their interactions. Loads of brotherly fluff.
1. Brother, I'm Dying

Disclaimer: I don't own the guys and dolls of the Twilight series any more than I owned the brothers of _Supernatural_.As usual, I just bring them out to play. Oh, and par for the course – I also don't own the title, chapter headings, etc. They all belong to far more talented people.

**I**

It was a sunny, blue-skied day.

No, actually it wasn't – it was a dark and stormy night.

No, it wasn't that either – it was just a gray, middling day in Forks. There was a slight chance of rain, and an even slighter chance of sun.

Now, normally, very few of the Earth's inhabitants would relish such a day as this – humans being first and foremost to count themselves in this group. But humans weren't the only sentient things alive in Forks, Washington. There were also vampires.

(And the occasional werewolf, but that's another story…)

So, yes, the humans despised the dreary weather that made the small town of Forks rather infamous; but the vampires? The vampires, not so much.

And yet where were the vampires on this enjoyable day? Certainly not in Forks…no; of the seven members of the Cullen family (the current clan-in-residence), five had gone away for the afternoon. Plans had been made, checkbooks had been pulled out, credit cards gotten at the ready, convertibles gassed up, and then – _whoosh_. They were gone.

Well, all but two of them.

Alice had gone off with Rosalie. Something about the mall. Esme and Carlisle had left the night before, their destination being a medical conference the hospital had insisted on sending the eldest Cullen to. Emmett, well, sometimes one just wasn't sure where he went. But he did, and they never stopped him.

Left standing (stranded?) were Edward and Jasper.

That morning, the sun's light broke upon a day especially drizzly. And the brothers didn't have a single other soul (no pun intended) to share it with.

"What a great day this is going to be," Edward muttered as he rolled away from the window in his room, attempting, though he had no physical need, to sink deeper into sleep. The quicker he could shut his eyes and force his uncooperative body to shut down, the quicker time would slip away, and the more likely it would be that when he woke up again it would be tomorrow – and thus more likely that Bella would be available. (She currently wasn't: something about girl time and reconnecting to people who had pulses. Bleh.) Or, at the very least, when he woke up again it would be later in the day, less time for him to fill awake.

Three minutes and seventeen seconds later, his eyelids were no heavier, and their owner had begun to fear they weren't going to shut anytime soon.

"God," he spat, attempting in his curse to relieve some frustration, and propped himself up against his headboard, frustrated and dead-set against not getting out of bed unless he could help. Getting up would only indicate that he had some intention, some course of action. But on this most conducive of days to vampiric activities, Edward wanted to do just the opposite.

_"Let's just...let's just _entertain_ the idea that I had anything to do. I'm not saying I want to, I'm just saying this is getting me nowhere. And it's not exactly like I'm not without options. Really, I've got…umm. No, Bella is out. I already knew that. I could test drive one of those new cars of Emmett's. But he didn't leave a key…I could always hotwire it, haven't done that in awhile – and I don't want to go rusty. Maybe Jasper? But he's not really...I mean, without Alice he tends to hole up in their room like I've been trying to do in mine. Ugh. This is too frustrating."_

Throughout his inner diatribe, it never occurred to Edward to wonder at just who he was speaking in his head; that wasn't the point to him. Boredom was the point. And it was being some sort of implacable bitch today.

"Edward?" a voice asked.

"Uh, yeah?" Edward called back.

"It's Jasper." _Well duh_. Though he should have been quicker to figure that out, it was his brother's voice after all. But it was so unlikely to hear him about like this…

"Could you come out here?"

"Yeah, just hang on one second…"

Edward, at once curious at Jasper's intention and curious as to whether he himself might be going a little crazy (seriously, Jasper asking him to – gasp, could it really be? – hang out? Puh-leaze), eased himself off the bed and walked to the door.

For all the perceived lack of activity available to him, Edward thought he could just about see the very air outside his door buzzing with energy. It only worked to further dampen his mood – if even the freaking air wasn't bored, then why the hell was he?

"You rang?" he asked Jasper, raising one eyebrow and injecting the perfect balance of sarcasm and curiosity into his statement; at this point he wasn't sure whether to lighten the mood or take it seriously, so he opted to do both.

"Yeah, umm, can I come in?" Jasper responded.

"Sure, not like I was doing much of anything, anyway."

"Tell me about it—"

"Wait. What?" Edward couldn't help himself: the idea that his older brother could have just been sitting in _his _room, bored out of _his _mind, was too much. Jasper was stoic; he made others' feel emotions. He didn't much feel them himself.

"Boredom? You know, that thing that happens to normal people – and normal vampires – who don't have anything to do? Am I ringing any bells?" Jasper's slightly exasperated question didn't exactly reach Edward's ears, so busy was he processing the idea that, well, Jasper was pretty much just like him. In one respect anyway.

"No, no, I know _what _it is. Just not that it…well, frankly Jasper, I didn't think you got bored." Edward finally answered back, after what seemed several minutes.

As soon as he said this though, he noticed something. The buzzing air had followed them in from the hallway. And then it clicked: it wasn't the air. It was Jasper. His brother was practically thrumming.

"Edward, let it just suffice to say that I do and I am. And when I say I am, I mean I _am_."

A beat, "Oh man, no – I get it now…so, umm, you got anything in mind to do?" he offered lamely to Jasper. Realizing they shared a problem, and then doing something about it, were two very different tasks.

In response, Edward got two things: a fresh thought from his big brother, and a fresh wave of exasperation.

_"How often do I come knocking on my little brother's door for entertainment?"_

"Point taken. Well, let me think here for a second…" He really wanted to help Jasper. Really, he did. But just because someone else now needed him to come up with an activity didn't suddenly make a plethora of them appear.

"Hunting! I got it: we'll go hunting! I mean, you haven't eaten in – what, three days?"

"Four," Jasper tersely replied (Apparently the thrumming from his body was making him cranky. Perhaps the boredom had a hand in that.) "But yeah, yeah that'd be great. It'd be something to do—"

"Which is even better," Edward finished, a smile breaking out for the first time since the day broke above them, empty and boring.

**II**

Deep in the woods, not much could get to them. And that included the specter of emptiness the brothers had been battling since the morning. No, here amidst the verdant trees and moss and grass and dirt and animals, there was only instinct and desire fulfilled – blood.

The creature – Jasper couldn't quite make it out yet – was quicker than he'd expected. But that was a good thing, now. Not normally, true, but then normally he was just looking for a minor bit of a hunt, and a major bit of spurting red substance – preferably spurting straight into his mouth. Now though he was looking for a bit of sport to go, a spot of entertainment on the run; his appetites this afternoon weren't physical – or at least not in the sense of hunger. He could have easily gone another day or even two without the necessary accompanying rape and plunder of the forest. He couldn't have gone, however, another single solitary second in that house like he was.

This is what he needed, and it made him really, really, grateful to Edward for thinking it up.

_"I really should tell him that when we meet up in a bit; he'll probably even think it funny, you know, him helping me out like this." _His lips curved up in mirth, exposing the very weapons his prey was running so speedily from.

Jasper hadn't worried about thinking so openly inside his own head – or rather, hadn't then directed his thoughts straight to his brother – because said vampire was at this moment otherwise occupied roughly, oh, two miles away, downstream. Jasper thought he could remember Edward saying something about a wolf pack moving in this winter that he wanted to check out before he darted off on his separate way. (Whatever his younger brother may have thought of his socializing skills, the irony of Edward investigating a wolf pack was not lost on Jasper.)

Fifteen minutes later the hunt was over, and Jasper thought he might be entitled to take a little breather. It was a silly habit, admittedly, but not one he easily gave up. Just because he didn't need to take a small break after a normally exhausting (normally exhausting for a human, anyway) hunt didn't mean he felt he shouldn't. Besides, to him the idea of a break wasn't exactly what anyone would call the norm. To Jasper "taking a breather" still involved running through to the woods at his vampire speed, still feeling out the forest critters. In fact, the only thing he forewent when he "took a break" was the actual act of hunting itself; not any other perks of his current race. Never those.

_"I'll just circle back to Edward, see how things with the wolves went, maybe congratulate him on an afternoon well spent," _Jasper thought as he grew closer to what he thought was Edward's location. Another few seconds and he began to call for him – albeit not verbally.

_"Edward?"_ A pause, another pause, a beat or two, and still no outward return that he'd been heard. Jasper increased his speed by barely perceptible degrees. He called again: _"Edward?"_

Nothing – curiouser and curiouser.

Five minutes later, Jasper had arrived at what he thought was where his brother had been. In fact, he'd arrived there seven times, with steadily decreasing returns of optimism about his own ability to locate Edward.

_"He's just one vampire. And he's fast, I'll give him that, but he _told _me where he'd be, and now I can't find him? Oh, oh just _great_. Come on Edward, where are you…"  
_As if in response to his internal utterance, the seemingly impermeable grey block above his head broke, for a fleeting second, and a shaft of light fell into his eyes. Jasper was blinded for just as long as the light remained – which is to say, not long as the clouds regained their briefly-lost territory. But once he had his sight back, suddenly it was like he had his ears too.

"Jasper?" a voice questioned from somewhere nearby.

He turned to look, around and around, but was met only with green and green and green. His eyes didn't fall on anything even vaguely pale or humanoid.

"Jasper?" again it called – and again he spun with greater urgency and force.

_There_. Behind a bank of trees, another bank alongside a small stream. That was where the voice was coming from.

Moving towards, and then through, the trees towards the body of water, he called back, "Edward?"

"Yeah?" His brother's answering tone was nowhere what Jasper had let himself believe it should be: fearful, frantic, a tad disturbed in some way. Accordingly, he felt quite foolish, and looking back he winced at what he already perceived to be, on his part, a rather – oh, how to say this? – silly tone.

_"He's just fine. _Fine._ So you can stop freaking out now, Jasper," _he chided himself.

"I can hear you, you know? And you're right, I am fine. Good to know you care though." Ok, so now his little brother's tone was really starting to bug him…

"You're bleeding." He couldn't help himself – it'd been a wild last few minutes, and emerging on the bank of a creek to find your younger brother is, in fact, hurt in some capacity was a huge validation. For Jasper at least.

And then the validation wore off, and a small part of his panic seeped back in. This time though, he contained himself.

"Yeah, it's nothing though, really. Just one of the wolves got a little…testy; I wasn't expecting it and then bam! Really," Edward stressed to Jasper as the latter moved forward to inspect the former's wounded appendage, "it's _fine_."

"Funny thing about that word fine…" Jasper muttered as he turned Edward's hand, and the cut placed firmly across it, this way and that.

"Is that sometimes it's accurate?" Edward filled in.

"Sometimes it isn't," his older brother corrected. "You might want to wash it, and then wrap it up…" Jasper trailed off once more, this time too absorbed in tearing off the bottom of his shirt. Once he had a sizeable bandage, and once he was certain his little brother had cleaned the cut sufficiently he brought the fabric around it.

So close as he was to Edward's blood, twin thoughts occurred to him: why was it that vampire blood didn't inflame him the way the blood of humans still did? And how on earth did a wolf cut a vampire?

And just as quickly as Jasper thought the questions, answers popped into his head – or one did, at least: maybe it wasn't vampire blood in general. Maybe it was just Edward's. Maybe it was just the blood of family.

As for the wolf thing? Well, there had to be some curiosities in life, Jasper thought, and besides: they'd had quite an active day already.

"You know, if I were still human, I'd be freaking out right now, screaming and crying and all 'Brother, I'm dying!'" Edward joked, looking up at Jasper – who was just finishing his makeshift bandage – and smiling.

It was odd to see Edward in such a joking mood, especially without Bella in some close proximity, but then again, it was an odd day,

_"An odd day, but no longer boring," _Jasper thought, and unleashed a wave of gratefulness and calm for both of them.

Smiling back at Edward he asked, "Want to go home now, Bear Grylls?"

"Sure," the younger vampire answered as he got up. And then he turned back to Jasper, who was still on his knees on the bank.

"Race you."

* * *

_Author's Note: _Well, that was Part One – or rather, the first one-shot. I've got the next few all planned out to add in the next week or two, so stayed tuned. And read and review!


	2. What Lies Beneath

Author's Note: This is pre-Twilight, thus – no Bella.

**I**

As the music rose to its crescendo, Edward couldn't help himself: he thought for what seemed the thousandth time, _"I cannot believe I let him drag me here."_

Noticing Edward's quickly souring face, Emmett, who had just stopped by on his way to the bathroom, slung an arm around his little brother's shoulders.

"Hey, you said you'd come. And try and have some fun."

"I tried. Really, I did. But, Emmett, these places—"

"These _fun_ places?"

"Yeah, _fun_, anyway, I just, why are we here?"

"Because I've got two fake IDs, and because you need to perk up."

"I am perky, just plain bubbly."

"Right, and last night before I drifted off, I could have sworn I saw a pig take flight right outside my window."

"You know what Emmett? To be so big and brawny, you're wit is really underappreciated."

"Ha. Ha. Now come, dance."

"I. Don't. Dance."

"And pigs don't fly, but remember my story?"

Before Edward had a chance to answer, the arm around his shoulders had become a vice, pulling him inexorably towards the center of the club.

The center of the club was at least ten degrees hotter than it had ever been outside today, but that wasn't what was bothering Edward; and now that he'd been pulled into the big hot epicenter, he'd have to dance – but that wasn't the Big Thing that really pissed him off (gave him hives, almost, really – he could swear he could feel them forming).

It was being here, with Emmett, having to pretend to have fun. It was having to _affect_ a life. Edward had sworn off human blood for years – and was pretty good at keeping his oath. But having to then by extension act like his former prey? God, this was going to be hard.

"And you swing your hips like this, uh huh, yeah yeah – that's exactly it." Edward turned his head at the sound of his brother's voice to realize that said sibling was trying to teach some shy looking girl how to dance. _Dance._

"This is absurd," he mutters, already looking for a way to sneak out.

"What's that, little brother?" Emmett turns from his nervous but excited pupil to enquire of his brother.

"Oh, you know, just saying how happy I am to be here. To myself." He realizes how bad that sounds, but it's Emmett.

"Oh, ok. Just, just start moving soon. I didn't bring you all the way out here to sulk in a big group. That defeats the purpose," Emmett admonishes as he turns back to the girl. And then Edward is alone – right about his lie being effective, and also right, as he thought in his head, that once it's continued, and this whole thing is carried forth, he'll be stranded in a, gulp, mosh pit.

"Want to dance?"

The question comes out of nowhere, and at first Edward is sure it isn't directed at him. So he lets a few seconds of silence elapse, and the question is repeated again. This time he turns to find the inquisitive soul who is _really _starting to bug him.

She's young, maybe a year younger than Edward. Well, not actually a year younger than he _is_ – that'd make her hundreds of years old; no, she's probably sixteen.

"Huh?" She doesn't seem taken aback by his confusion. She just smiles a little more, this time it seems flavored by a hint of insecurity or confusion herself.

"My friends – you see them over there? – they dared me to come over and ask you to dance. And I said ok, so what do you say? Want to make a girl do good on her bet? Otherwise, I'm afraid I may lose a kneecap…"

She's joking with him, Edward can recognize that. But he's not really at the place in his vampire-human relations where he can joke back. So he doesn't, but a part of him finds the proposition appealing, if only in the sense of helping this girl out…

"Stephanie." She sticks her hand out. Instead of shaking it, he brushes his fingers over hers, leading her by mere physical intimation to a clear space where they can begin dancing.

He knew how to dance, really he did. But in a 21st-century club, he wasn't sure he was a modern as everyone else. Edward's dancing usually involved large group synchronicity. So he let the girl – Stephanie – start, hoping he'd be able to fall right in alongside her.

The beat changed just as she started moving. No longer was it the mid-tempo music that accompanied her earlier invitation; now it was a whirling cacophony of crashing beats. A small part of Edward became less surprised at his current situation, and slightly more curious at how his partner would deal with the shift.

It was subtle, but hey – he was a vampire, he could catch the way Stephanie shifted. At first her movements had been patient, scattered out with a slow logic that allowed her to twist and move along to something unseen. (He may be a lot of things, but Edward Cullen did _not _get "rhythm.") Now that the air was filled with a different sound though, not only had her movements sped up, but they'd also changed texture. No longer did they slink along in slow, large patterns of symmetry; now they spun and interacted together with frenetic devotion. It was truly a spectacle – a sight for sore (vampiric) eyes.

"If you're not going to dance, you may need to go get a rag," Stephanie said.

"Huh?" Entranced – was that it? Was he _entranced_? – as he was, that was all his brain would muster.

"You know, for all the drool you've been wasting over me." Her admonishment is punctured by a vibrant laugh, and there is something definitely surreal about the two of them flirting in this context: both in a crowded dance floor, only one dancing, the other standing. Life, thought Edward, is pretty surreal though, for…for…_people_.

"I love this song; do you know it?" Another one of Stephanie's friendly questions – and bound to be one of her last if the sullen guy she's standing next to doesn't do something like, hello!, dance – and he had to think up a response. Come on Edward…

"Yeah, definitely," he answered. That didn't come out awkward at all.

"Oh, great," she smiles again. "Decided to dance yet?" He's floundering, he knows that, and somewhere around here his older brother can probably just _sense _that no fun is being had. Well it wasn't really Edward's idea in the first place, was it? Still…

"I'll dance if you promise not to ruin my pretty shoes," he says, finally relieving Stephanie of that questioning look she'd put on her face and the tension that had built up. All with a little joke – humans were so obsessed with decorum.

"Am I going to have to teach you, too?" Stephanie asks as he assumes what he approximates to be the correct position next to her; at first he's tempted to not respond and just _start_, but then he realizes this is a different joke from her. She's actually flirting with him now. God help her.

"No, no. I think I got it, just…go slow," Edward replies, trying to smile back with the same avidness.

And that is how the next minutes, and songs, pass by: Stephanie effortlessly moving in rhythm and seemingly spontaneous dance steps to each song while Edward studies her for a few minutes each shift and tries to imitate. As the fourth song is drawing to a close, he's starting to feel like the whole modern-day dancing scene isn't that bad. (And neither is trying to be normal, he thinks.)

**II**

In all the noise of the club, it's difficult to pick up anything -- for a normal person, anyway. Edward hears every door creak, every floorboard shift, and every glass clink. So when he hears the entrance slam for the latest time, he thinks nothing of it (as a vampire, you learn to tune these things out) but his dancing partner also seems to notice this particular noise; and it scares her.

"Steph?" he asks. The nickname comes easily to his lips, but he doesn't even noticed. Her face, and the look it is currently possessing, is all that he's focusing on.

"Do you think…could you—go get that big guy you came in with?" Her voice is quivering slightly as she turns from where she had looked to the front of the club back to him.

"You mean my brother? Emmett? You want him to join the dancing too?" He doesn't get it yet, this immense, and immensely quick, shift in human emotions; he's joking when he should just be listening, responding. Not talking.

"Could you go get him, please, umm…umm…" And that's when they both realized he never told her his name, and in that realization, something clicks with him. He starts to move to where he thought he can just pick up the sound of his big brother's laughter. He's turning his head back to her, to say his name ("It's Edwar—") when he runs smack dab into a big mountain of something—of flesh.

Tilting his head upward to get a better look at the giant thing currently standing in his way, Edward noticed two things simultaneously: this guy, whoever he was, was seriously – _seriously_ – huge; but (and this slightly re-assured Edward, who so far in this night of dancing and chatting with mortal teenage girls had had his behavioral compass tilted so far bass-ackwards that he wasn't even sure what to do with the dude) he still flinched as the young vampire walked into him. At least he wasn't immortal like some people in the club…

"Excuse…excuse me," Edward mutters in what he hopes is a courteous tone as he tries to slide past the man. In response all he gets is a massive hand shoving into his chest. Ok, ok: the guy isn't immortal, but he's strong enough to shove Edward back a few feet.

It's ridiculous, the situations he seems to find himself in sometimes, and noticing this seems to clear his head. Edward shoves back, albeit lightly. He doesn't want to hurt the dumbass.

"Hey," he says, lacing his soon-to-be threat with velvety menace. "You wouldn't want to hurt anyone…"

Edward doesn't really give the guy a chance to respond – he merely notices his shocked expression, satisfying himself with that – before he turns back to Stephanie, who looks (and rightly so) like she's really happy Edward didn't have time to go get Emmett. One supernatural rescuer is more than enough.

The mountain-man hulk-thing has apparently decided that Edward isn't worth the trouble…or that continuing to seem to think so would be bad for his health. Either way, he sidles past him towards Stephanie, who merely lets her eyes get bigger instead of – you know – running away.

"You said, what was it? Let me see if I can remember your _exact words_…oh yeah, 'That I'd never get to be around again.' And yet here I am. And here you are. God, I love coincidence." For such a big man, the guy's voice is surprisingly reedy, almost raspy.

"Did I say that? Really? See, Jake, you may be remembering it wrong. It 's more likely, me and you being you know what we are, that I just needed some space; that's what I said: 'I needed space.' You're just remembering it wrong."

"I sure hope so," The guy – Jake – says, as he moves closer. Edward is the one who is the third wheel, and apparently Stephanie, scared though she so consumedly seems, doesn't move away. She just stares.

"_Humans and all of their fears and inhibitions – _Christ_," _Edward nearly screams to himself internally; and then he makes a rather rash decision: he grabs Jake's shoulder and hauls him around.

"She was dancing with me, Jake, and it's not very polite to just cut in." That Segal-worthy zinger tossed-off (apparently all this socializing has re-invigorated the sass somewhere deep in Edward's brain) he makes another rash decision: he punches Jake clean in the face. With only the barest modicum of restraint

He goes down hard, but then he's back up even faster. And then he's hitting Edward even harder than Edward thought he hit Jake.

(It's all irrelevant – and Edward's observations are mere surface thoughts – because a human punch on a vampire's skin is the equivalent of a plastic knife scraping concrete.)

Edward attempts to affect some sort of pained look, so any onlookers don't get the feeling he has the pain tolerance of a dump truck, and ruefully notes that his attacker is trying to do the exact opposite: Jake's attempting to mask all the agony his fists must be in from repeatedly mashing up against Edward's marble face.

Almost a minute later, it's obvious to all parties involved that the "fight" is starting to drag. Jake tries to punch Edward with a little more ferocity, but not only can his hands barely handle it, the increased rate draws nothing but a barely suppressed yawn from the young creature-of-the-night.

Edward had just begun to think of a satisfactory way for him to end this whole charade when he finally notices something: the circle surrounding him and his new pal has increased by a factor of 1. Emmett.

"A_hem_." That was his older brother being subtle. It wouldn't last long.

There's a pause afterward – the group seems to notice the barely-veiled weight and power of the new addition's voice. And his size, too, is pretty hard to ignore. Jake looks up and stops punching. Edward coyly notes that two of his knuckles have started to bleed a little, and the other six are a deep red-purple.

"Yeah?" is Jake's brilliant response twenty seconds after Emmett joined their little party.

"What are you doing, exactly?"

"He's teaching me how to dance, Emmett," Edward cuts in before Jake can do any more damage to himself, verbally or physically. (He knows Emmett wouldn't kill him so publicly, but his brother _does _look really mad. Maybe he thought Edward was really hurt…)

"Really? Dancing? What do you call this move?" He points down at the two of them sprawled there, and for a moment it's Silly Emmett that covers up his words, but it's only a mask.

Jake is a little confused by this exchange – he has too few neurons for so rapid a transfusion of wit and eloquence into his small brain – but he hides it well…by getting up, and trying to menace the older of the two vampires.

"Your friend here," he points at Edward, who is still lying, placidly, on the floor, "was being a real asshole. To my girlfriend. I had to deal with him."

Emmett lifts an eyebrow in his little brother's direction, and said brother turns his head in the direction of Stephanie, hoping she might refute what Jake is saying. She just looks scared and trapped, unsure. Emmett turns back to Jake.

"Well…" and then he punches Jake one good, solid time. And Jake goes down, hard. And doesn't get back up.

The accrued crowd would have gasped but everything happened so fast, they just kind of stand around, wide-eyed. Emmett walks over to Edward and extends his hand.

"I told you you'd have fun."

"Ha. Ha," the younger of the pair mocks as he takes his brother's hand and lifts himself off the ground.

They're both almost through the exit when Emmett asks, "What about her?" and he looks back at Stephanie, who isn't quite so wide-eyed, but is mostly just looking down at a groaning Jake.

"You know, it's crazy – Stephanie, I mean – it's just…we were dancing and then that guy, her old boyfriend I guess, showed up…and she was all…I don't know…" Finishing his sentence, Edward could feel a rare depression settle over him like a dark cloud during a summer afternoon.

Emmett is ahead of him, he's taller and when he wants to, has a faster gait, but he looks back as his little brother trails off.

"Women," he laughs.

"Humans," Edward corrects. And then he laughs too, he can't help it – Emmett is infectious.

He's just settling into the passenger seat of their car, when a question pops into his mind.

"Why'd you hit that guy – Jake? You could have just pulled me out from under him and we'd be out." It's an honest, valid, question Edward thinks, but to hear it from Emmett's perspective, it must be insane, because his big brother bursts into a big loopy grin.

"Why? 'Cause, Edward, you're my little brother, and 'cause if anyone is going to repeatedly punch you in the face, it should be someone who can actually do damage."

"Like you?" Edward teases, already knowing the answer.

"Hey, hey, I didn't say that."

"But you were thinking it…" Emmett's only response is an even bigger grin, and a punch to Edward's shoulder, who can't help a small wounded yelp.

As they pull out of the parking lot, Edward is paradoxically touched and rankled. Being, and acting, like a human is too much work, but underneath it all…

There's Emmett, and his family. And they understand it, him. No bar fights or dance lessons included.


	3. Wise Up

_Author's Note_: Sorry sorry **sorry **it's been so long—life came back and smacked me in the face! But I promise I'll have the _last _part of this collection up soon...by the way, kudos to my beta Adara for not even saying (too many) words about my drop-off the grid. Y'all should be jealous. Enjoy. And review!

**I**

"So if you correctly balance the ionization of iodine, then the sum of the coefficients would be…?"

Silence lingers after the question, and then a voice cracks up from nothing:

"I don't remember the number, exactly, but it's Ms. Sander's test, and I _do _remember the answer is always 'B.' And if not…"

"You'll just fail Chemistry?" Jasper is exasperated, Emmett realizes that, and his sarcasm is duly warranted. But come _on_: the two of them are studying for a test in a subject Emmett has now taken...dozens? Dozens of times. It's insane to re-tread it.

"This is insane," Emmett finally responds to Jasper's barb. He's never been one to hold back anything that pops so naturally into his head.

"This?" Jasper asks, motioning down to the books and papers between them, "Or _this_?" This time he moves his hands back and forth through the air between the two vampires.

Emmett is momentarily confused. Jasper does that to him sometimes.

"What?" He doesn't think that's the perfect response—and it's _definitely _not the one Jasper was looking for—but the quicker they finish this conversation, the quicker they finish "studying," and the quicker Emmett can get back to his Sunday afternoon.

Shutting up his brother, ergo, equals freedom in a more prompt and timely manner.

"Yeah, ergo," he mutters under his breath, realizing a little too late that he'd said it out loud.

"What?" Jasper seems no more annoyed than he was when they cracked open the textbooks, and no more bothered than when he said that out-of-left-field statement of his. Still, there is a tone to his words; and with Jasper – that's enough.

"Huh?"

"You were muttering. Under your breath. You usually don't mutter, Emmett."

"I mutter all the time."

"Examples?"

"…That time, at one of the proms at one of those schools we went to, hmm, back in the 80s maybe. They were playing Rick Springfield, and the whole night long I was muttering about it. Even with my date."

"Uh-huh: this whole time you've been a vampire, and throughout the decades we've spent together as brothers, I'm sitting here as you tell me you've only muttered _once_ and that counts as 'all the time'?"

"Yep."

"No, it doesn't."

"Does so."

"Does not."

"Does _so._" With that, and as a smirk forms on the brawny immortal's lips, he thinks he's won. And then Jasper does some grumbling of himself, and in a flash he's at the door.

"This is impossible—you're impossible. All of it. God, really," a pause and an expulsion of bitter breath through chapped lips, "_God_. Ha. _Really_."

Emmett would prefer not to think of himself as "lost" after his brother's little diatribe, but seriously, ranting on such a perfectly nice day? How many of those came around? Probably a few thousand so far—

Well, that was beside the point. The point was Jasper was agitated, and it was bugging Emmett the hell out.

Sighing, and shifting within the span of a blink of an eye off the bed towards Jasper, Emmett finally responds in a manner he thinks befitting of the other vampire's current state.

"Bro, chill."

"What?!" Ok, so it wasn't the best thing to say—is it ever? But he didn't possess supernatural gifts of empathy like Jasper; he couldn't sort through stuff like this, all these messy emotions and snarls of desire, in just moments. He needed space; he needed _air_.

"Outside," he says. And before Jasper can let his mask of discontent drop, his brother has pushed him out into the hallway, down the stairs, and out into the cloudy light of day.

**II**

"There are only two reasons you're acting like this. And one of them deals with Alice…and your bed," he gulps, unnecessarily, letting that implication settle into Jasper's head, "and the other…well…you tell me."

"What?" It's apparently not Emmett's turn to be curious anymore; after his rant, Jasper has lost all his ability of exposition. Now comes the fun part – rooting out the trouble

"You're quiet, Jazz, sure, and even sometimes _too _stoic. But I've never—_ever—_seen you like this. Spill: what's the deal?"

Spinning like a wheel removed from its center of gravity, Jasper turns around and around, looking first back at the house, then at the woods surrounding them.

He keeps spinning, slowly, so it looks almost like pacing—except he just keeps turning over and over in the same infinitesimal space.

A beat passes. And then another. And another.

And another.

Finally, as a strand of sunlight alights on a nearby porch rail, a whisper through the air—not from Emmett:

"I think I'm going crazy."

"The fuck you are."

"What?"

"Why?"

"…What?" This time, Jasper's response is a little softer; his brother's passion is confusing, to say the least.

"_Why_?" Barely has the question paused to rest before it is repeated; a third time, Emmett opens his mouth for repetition's sake, when Jasper begins to answer.

"Hmm, I—I'm not sure, really…uhh, just, God, being like this, around you guys—my family—and still living like _this_. It's like a really elaborate costume party, and I'm the only one there whose seams are showing."

"Jasper. Jasper—look at me. _Look_." He turns towards Emmett, his eyes lifting from the ground.

"What?"

"Hello."

"Hi."

"Are you there?"

"Where?"

"Here, with me?"

"Uhh, sure?"

"Really?"

"What answer are you expecting?"

"I want the truth—you can't just freak out on your brother like that and expect nothing in response."

"This is…is a little weird, for us, no?"

"What?"

"Well: we never talk."

"Sure we do."

"No. We don't."

"Yes. We do."

"Not _talking_."

"What is this?"

"The exception that proves the rule."

Emmett snorts—a shot of laughter into their very odd exchange. "Come on, the sun is setting. Hungry?"

Jasper smiles, unknowingly and then he realizes: it may be a party to which he's been invited—and he doesn't really ever stand a chance of fitting in—but that doesn't mean he has to play by everyone's rules. Hell, he's already living in a pretty different way from his old rules anyhow. Break some more, wake up—it's his life, he's just living in it.

"Starving. Want to race there?"

"Heh, like I'd ever out-race you when you're stomach is growling like this."

"Fine then," Jasper turns from his brother, waving a hand behind him. "I'll see you in a few hours, if you can even spot my toothy blur."

"Hey! I can't run, but I can see!"

Into the wind, he races, Emmett's laughter falling up behind him. As he dives behind the second line of trees at the forest's edge, another Emmett-ism catches up to him from back by the house:

"Oh and next time you have a mini-meltdown, just go ahead and slap yourself in the face. Grow up bro, or the rest of us are going to be forced to grow _down_."

He smiles—that's Emmett for you, always innocuously shallow yet affectionate—and then a response pops into his head.

_"Grow down? Ha, Emmett, can you even _evolve _at all?"_

The only answer is a sigh from between the rustling leaves, echoed intensely along the calm surface of Jasper's mind.


	4. Sexy Beast

_Author's Note_: This is it, folks: **The End**. Thanks to those of you who stuck by this through the months, and especially to ForgetItAgain, who is as good a cheerleading-fan-reader-person anyone could have asked for. Also, this last chapter is a little bit un-beta'd, as Adara is having a time of it, and I feel too sympathetic to weigh her down—so go easy! And as always, read and review...you never know, it might inspire me to write more. (On second though, it will _definitely _inspire me.)

--

**I**

"These?"

"No."

"How about these?"

"Nope.?"

"…"

"Sorry, bro, but really—you're fashion sense could use some work."

"Ok—jeez—how about _these_."

"No."

"Hell no."

"What he said."

"But you already said something."

"What you just showed us deserves the double-veto."

"You can say that again."

"Don't worry, I already have."

The two of them—Jasper and Emmett—begin to giggle, and Edward huffs outwardly, inwardly annoyed that they've been here for almost an hour-and-a-half and he still has, like, nothing to show for it. Plus: the two of them laughing at his expense is a little maddeningly. But only slightly. He hopes.

He'd hate to snap right here in the mall, slaughter them both, and have to go on the lamb—leaving Alice and Rosalie and their parents all alone and wondering why oh why he just had to rip out their marble-hard throats.

_"Why? 'Cause they're like adolescent monkeys—all I need for them is a banana…and maybe a cage. Extra small, to keep 'em quiet." _Smiling at this latest thought, Edward goes to grab another choice from the racks along the walls outside the fitting rooms. Maybe he'll strike gold this time…

Unlike the last time…

Or the time before that…

Or the time _before _that…

"God," he mutters, walking back into the belly of the beast.

--

"How does this look," Edward asks, "when I turn like this?" He twirls albeit in only the most masculine of ways.

It's a grey polo, with a stiff collar; in the light, it makes Edward look dead. Well, more dead than usual.

"You need color," Jasper comments. "You do not need another polo."

"Especially one that's grey," Emmett adds—helpfully, he thinks. Edward disagrees. The vampire in question turns to his older brother and grimaces.

"Ok, well, this has taken too long. Everything I try on both of you hate—"

"With good reason," Jasper starts, before he's cut off by Emmett.

"You can't dress yourself, bro, just face it."

"Remember that horrible pink thing he picked out, oh, about thirty minutes ago?" Jasper questioned, turning to Emmett.

"Oh _yeah_, man that was horrible. Seriously, Ed, never ever _ever_ wear pink. It's just…"

"Washed-out," Jasper finishes.

"It makes you look like a water-starved flower."

"A pink one." Emmett nods his agreement.

Edward eyes both of them after their little critique. Warily, he sets himself down, sucks in an unnecessary breath, and acquiesces.

"Ok, fine."

"Fine?" his brothers ask in unison.

"Fine. Just, when you start picking stuff out, make it…make it _dignified_." He stresses his honor—his manhood—he can't let them take that from him. This has been a hard enough day as it is.

"Oh sure, sure," Emmett agrees quickly, a light already building in his eyes. He turns to Jasper. "You first?" he politely gestures back into the store, where they shall begin their quest.

"Oh. Frankly, Emmett, I'd be delighted." Giggling, practically shaking with their self-mockery and excitement, the pair set off. Edward, left alone, watches them go, his eyes already twitching in preparation for the coming annoyances.

"This isn't going to turn out good. God, will it ever _not_."

--

"Turn for us, Edward," came the instruction—stressed from too many repetitions.

"I am," was the terse reply.

"No, no. Like this. Turn like _this_," chimed in a second voice.

"There? Like that?" was the hopeful question, after the third try at this, this, _simple_ little thing. Two voice sigh in tandem, loaded down with eon's worth of strain and frustration.

"Edward, Edward, seriously: that's what you call turning. That?" the second voice wondered.

"What?"

"'What?' he asks, as if he doesn't know—"

"I _don't _know!"

"As if you don't." Two tongues cluck, one after the other: a one-two-punch of distaste and disappointment.

"This is driving me insane."

"Imagine how we feel." Their wishes are met with nothing but disdain—their most honored guest turning in a huff back to the mirror.

"See me—here? There, that's all your getting; I'm not playing model for you." Edward's cranky, appropriately: it's been twenty more minutes and they've only found one outfit. One. He was tempted to call it a day at that (hell, even a success) but his big brothers would have none of it. Shopping was their drug, Edward was their needle, and the store was their trash-strewn back alley. He could leave only on pain of death. Or their consent—which would come only after he'd tried on many, many more clothes.

"Don't be so problematic, Edward. You're already playing dress-up. Really, is it too much more to ask?" Jasper thinks he sounds innocent enough, but Edward just glares at him through the reflection in the mirror.

"_Ok _then," Emmett interjected, stretching out ok into an elongated vowel of consolation, "no modeling. Fine, we can live with that." His younger brother sighs, and smiles. So does Jasper, as he holds up a sweater vest.

"Just because you don't have to prowl the runway, don't think we're done."

Edward's only response was his face falling, flying off the peak of his smile to the purgatory that was this store. Why did he ever let himself get talked into this?

--

"Guys, we already have seven outfits for me. That's _enough_—"

"In what universe?" Emmett wondered.

"Yeah, seven is only enough for every day of the week," Jasper added.

"Which is to say: not nearly enough for the whole month—"

"Let alone the _year_," Jasper added again. Emmett just nodded along. Edward brought his hand up against his forehead—_thwack_.

Seeing their brother's distress, the two vampires decided to try and change course. Sharing a brief, nearly-telepathic conversation, the two deliberate on just what to do:

_"I say we go out for tacos."_

_"We _always _go out for tacos, Emmett. Not every family crisis can be averted with a tortilla and some cooked meat."_

_"First: who says this is a family crisis. Edward is the only one with us, and bro just needs to chill—"_

_"Which is what we're trying to figure out: _how_?"_

_"Secondly: who said tacos never solved anything? I'm pretty sure the collapse of the Berlin Wall—you remember that right: Communism, etc?—was all due to tacos. So best not go dissin'."_

_"…"_

_"What?"_

_"Sometimes, Emmett, if I couldn't feel your intentions, good and compassionate as they are, behind what you think, I'd imagine you were just a hollowed-out shell, spouting nonsense; a talking-Bible with dyslexia._

_"Whoa. Poetic, Jazz. _Nice_. You should be a writer."_

_"…Exactly."_

"Are you guys doing that thing where you talk, but you don't talk to me…you know, you're little brother? Hello?"  
Coming out of their little pow-wow, both Emmett and Jasper notice, almost at once, Edward standing next to the mirror, his hands on his hips, an immortal glare being applied liberally to both of them.

"What?" they ask in unison.

Edward snatches a deep, calming breath, before beginning; he breaks each ensuing word down into pressurized syllables.

"You bring me down here, to shop for clothes. And I come, on the advice of my sister, my sweet and _future-seeing _sister, knowing the two of your couldn't possibly, you know, ruin my day or embarrass me or anything. Plus: you're my older brothers—"older," of course, being relative—and with Bella around we haven't gotten so much bonding time in. Not like I "bonded" much anyway," he pauses briefly to laugh derisively," but you get the idea."

Taking another deep breath, Edward sees Emmett quirk an eyebrow at him. He'll have to explain further.

"No, you don't? Ok, well. So I came, and we're shopping; and it turns out the two of you are, like, fashion gurus. Which floors me—shouldn't I know these things?—but it's more frustrating because we've been here for _hours _and all the clothes I have, the two of you picked out. While holding me as your slave, I might add."

At this point, a vein (if it could, mind you) would be slightly throbbing in the younger vampire's forehead. His brother's exchange glances. Jasper looks like he wants to start first, and throws a glance to Emmett, to see if the coast is clear. With a slight shake of _his _head, Emmett takes the wheel. He's going to lead-off the bomb diffusion squad. Mortality rate: 87.

"Edward, look, we're sorry. We didn't know it'd bother you so much. Hey, bro, look at us," Emmett moves his hand back and forth from Jasper back to himself, "would we willingly drive you to the brink of Crazytown?"

For a second he's skeptical, and then Edward submits. "No, I guess not…apology accepted."

There's a beat of silence, and then they're all three right back in the mix.

"Shall we continue?" Jasper asks.

"I guess," is Edward's despondent response. He'll go along with his brothers now, no complaint, but he won't exactly be happy about it.

--

The sun is setting, he thinks, thought he isn't quite sure, and it's not like it matters anyway with all the cloud cover, when they finally set aside the final outfit completing that fateful number set aside by Alice—seven. _Seven _outfits they had to find. Seven, as in assuming thirty minutes each that takes not even four hours. It took all day. An incalculable waste.

"You ready to go?" Edward wonders. He hopes so. Ok, so it wasn't quite so horrible, really. It was a big sinkhole in his week—but he got to be around Emmett and Jasper, which was becoming more and more rare. So what if he had to pimp himself out, prostrate before them the whole time, to make it happen? All is quickly forgotten. Hopefully.

"One second Ed," Emmett finally answers. He looks at Jasper for a second, pondering the moment, maybe urging on his brother to say something he doesn't want to.

_"Kill me, maybe. Maybe that's all this way—this whole day. An exercise in death-in-training. Ha."_ Edward thinks to himself. His thoughts, though, are quickly dashed…and twisted in a completely different direction.

"We can't leave yet," Jasper reveals. Emmett lets out an unnecessary expulsion of air, relieved he didn't have to deliver the bad news.

"What?" Edward pauses, gathering steam for a greater outburst.

"He's usually so reserved," Emmett sidebars to Jasper, in what the older vampire probably imagines passes for quiet.

"Hello, Emmett, _vampire hearing_. As in _I can hear everything you say. _I can hear you right now." Widely, his eyes dart between his brothers, hoping they're kidding.

"Whoa. Hey. I didn't get Jasper to say anything so you could have, like, a heart-attack. It's just a little thing, really. We'll be done in a matter of minutes. Just a second, like I said before. Pull yourself together, bro."

By the end of his little monologue, Emmett is halfway across the space between him and his little brother, so as to make it easier to smack Edward upside the head.

Emmett was never the peacekeeper. He's much better at just getting things done. Slapping heads may or may not be included.

"…What is it?" He's exhausted, and his voice reflects that. How on earth can this be so…soo..._draining_? It's absurd. Crazy. Surreal. This must be a dream.

Or a LSD-hallucination.

_"Or _A Christmas Carol_," Edward thinks to himself. _No _that's _a crazy thought—besides, wouldn't that make Jasper and Emmett the Ghosts of Christmas Present, Past, and Future. Who was the third one? Was he Scrooge?

Torn from his inane thoughts (inanity being the only viable reaction for his brain, after such a manic exercise in patience for hours on end), Jasper lightly shoves his shoulder.

Turning up to look at him: "Eh?"

"Boxers or briefs?"

"…What?" Edward is really confused now. Like, more than most of how he's felt all afternoon. Helpfully, Emmett tries to clear things up:

"He asked you, 'Boxers or briefs?'"

"I know that," the younger vampire resists the impulse to punch his big brother, "but I'm just a tad confused as to _why_."

Jasper wastes no time. "It's simple. Alice said we had to help you get seven outfits—"

"And that was all, it was supposed to be," Edward can't help but interrupt.

"It _was_. But she called after we left, with an addendum: you need socks and underwear. Usually Esme picks some up when she's out—but she didn't last time. And seeing as how we're out now…"

"Ok, I get it. I get it."

"Well?"

Silence.

"Shouldn't you already know?" He's hoping, if Jasper or Emmett try hard enough, they'll realize they do. He doesn't want to really say in public. It'd be embarrassing, in a minor but still substantial sort of way.

"You mean, shouldn't we, as your big brothers, know what your underwear preference is—or all the myriad choices available now to the American male?" Emmett's incredulity doesn't really pierce his little brother's hope. Edward nods.

"Well, I can't. Sorry. How 'bout you, Jazz?"

Jasper looks up at the ceiling for a minute, clearly trying to remember.

"I think…you may have worn… No, that's not it. Sorry, I can't remember either. Which is why I think I asked my original question."

There's no escape now. He's got to say. Hanging his head, Edward sucks in a useless breath.

"Briefs."

"Oh. Ok then. Edward," Jasper objectively directs, pointing back into the store, "Go pick out some packs for yourself. I think I saw Men's Underwear two or three aisles back from here."

"Oh. Ok." Happy they didn't make a bigger deal out of it—but really, why should they? He's been around for hundreds of years: he can wear whatever he damn well pleases under his jeans—Edward turns to leave. A thought occurs to him:

"If I'm buying it, then why'd you even need to know?"

"I didn't." Flippantly, Jasper points back to Emmett, "But he wanted to ask you."

Shocked and angry, Edward turns to glare at his brother.

"What. Is. Your. Problem?!"

"What?" Emmett impishly grins, clearly enjoying it. "It's not like I'm going to go around telling everyone that Edward the Dashingly Handsome Immortal wears—what was it?—tighty-whities. I won't tell _Bella_. I swear." And then he laughed.

Clouded by anger, and the stress of this whole mess, Edward sprang on his big brother, with clear intent on something evil.

_"Oh…so he thinks my briefs are funny? Wait until I'm done with him—"_

"Children. Please." Jasper sighed. He knew resistance was futile. This had brewing for hours. And why not let it happen?

--

As the fight ensued, was finished, and as the vampires went together to buy their youngest member's last needed article of clothing (laughing of course, leading to another mini-fight, because it turned out Edward _did _prefer white briefs…Emmett couldn't help himself : "I'm half-tempted to wonder whether you get 'em with cartoon character prints, too," he just had to say out loud) a mutual zeitgeist possessed them, unconsciously.

The trio walked out to their car, dusk firmly set, and each was smiling, a little.

…What a crazy day—Edward would never go clothes shopping with his brothers _again_. But he wouldn't live without them either.

In all of their wacky, stressful, OCD, inside-joke-conversation, hair-ruffling, patronizingly affectionate/overprotective ways, they were who they were: the Cullen Brothers.


End file.
